2. Part Two

[I feel awful, because I'm a day late posting this, but oh well. Enjoy!]

I put the finishing touches on the chocolate cake I made, dotting the i's and frosting one last pink heart. I stare at my creation, admiring the beautiful decorations I worked so hard to get just right. It says in sloping, red frosting, "Happy Valentine's Day, Niall!"

Valentine's Day is not only the "day of love" for everyone around the world, but it is the day Niall proposed to me two years ago. Today is also the day I plan on telling my wonderful husband to start that he'd better start thinking of baby names, for lack of better words. I wipe my hands on my apron and check the clock on the wall; 4:49. Niall should be home in eleven minutes which means I have time to wash up and make myself look decent. I go upstairs to my and Niall's bedroom and sort through the closet before finally deciding on my favorite dress, a pink and black chiffon tube dress that my mother got me for my birthday, and black heels. I then put on light eye makeup and mousse my hair. After I'm done, I check the time again, and it says 5:07. I laugh to myself; Niall has always been bad at keeping time. I just hope he isn't an hour late, like when--

"Baby, I'm home!" I hear the door click open and shut and Niall's call from downstairs.

I can't help but quietly squeal to myself; the prospect of revealing the news that I'm pregnant to my husband is one of the most exciting things that has happened in a while. What better timing to tell him, anyway, than on Valentine's Day and two years from the day he asked me to marry him (which was step one in the process of actually having children)? It's like a double whammy.

I try to walk down the stairs, but my excitement takes over, and I run down the stairs to greet Niall -- quite a difficult feat in five inch heels.

"Niall!" I exclaim, jumping into his open arms. He kisses my forehead and swings me around, effortlessly.

"Hi," he whispers into my hair after he sets me gently down on the floor.

"Hi," I breathe, snuggling my face into the crook of his neck, my cheek pressed against the place where his collar bone and chest meet, right above his fast-beating heart. "You're seven minutes late," I tell him, pulling back to look at his face.

"You still love me," he fires back.

"That I do." I peck his lips with mine, but he wants more; he presses his lips firmly against mine, wrapping his slender, calloused hands around the sides of my face, his thumbs caressing my face. I curl my fingers around his forearm, squeezing lightly, before trailing them up into his hair. I tangle my fingers in his blonde locks, and he pulls me closer.

"What a great way to start the night," he says, breathing heavily to catch his breath.

"There's more where that came from," I say with a quick wink.

"We should get going before we just skip dinner for you-know-what."

"Good idea. Go get dressed; I already have your clothes laid out on the bed."

"Thanks." He kisses my nose and runs up the stairs to get dressed.

Once he gets back downstairs, it's nearly five thirty.

"What time is our reservation?" I ask.

"Five forty-five."

"We should get there early in case everyone within twenty miles of the restaurant decides to eat out like us," I say, grabbing my purse and jacket, and we walk out the door, hand in hand.

-~-

As expected, the restaurant is crowded when we walk through its doors. The small waiting area in front of the check-in counter is occupied by a mass of people; couples in love -- old and young -- families, and some people unfortunately by themselves. Niall wraps his left hand around my right arm, and fights against the crowd with me in his death grip.

"Reservations for Niall Horan," he says to the waitress once we reach the counter.

Her eyes are wide as she stares at Niall and me, and her jaw opens, closes, then opens again, almost like she is unsure what to say, or if she wants to say anything at all. After a few seconds, she recovers and clears her throat, marking our reservation off the list.

"Your table is this way." She points in the direction of our table and begins walking toward it, checking back every other second to see if we are still following her. She passes another waitress on the way, and they both squeal while walking by each other. Niall looks down at me with an amused look on his face and laughs quietly, shaking his head.

"Hey, that used to be me," I whisper and move to punch his arm softly, but he grabs my hand before my fist can hit his skin. He uncurls my fingers and slips his in between them.

"This table was made for the owner and his wife to eat at, but since they're not here right now, we're letting you use it, since you requested privacy." There is what I could only explain as a half-wall that reaches about halfway up to the ceiling, made of dark mahogany, separating us from everyone else in the restaurant.

"Thank you," I tell her, sitting down in the cushioned wood chair. Niall pushes my chair in, like he always has on every date, and then sits down across from me.

The waitress smiles nervously. "Amanda will be out to take your orders soon." She waves slightly and rushes away.

Nearly five minutes later, the waitress named Amanda takes our drink orders, and, obviously, Niall orders the most expensive red wine on the list, which she quickly brings back to the table.

"Isn't this romantic? Candles, expensive wine, a wall that hides us from everyone. . . ." Niall trails off, reaching across the table to grab my hand. He presses the back of it to his lips and then kisses each of my fingertips.

"Don't get any ideas," I warn, instantly thinking about the baby, and how it came to be. A cool yet warm rush of excitement runs through me, and my cheeks redden from pure joy.

We walk side by side, hand in hand, on a sidewalk by a small river with trees growing on its bank. Bright fireflies flit around us, surrounding us like a silent, beautiful light show.

"This has been the best Valentine's Day," Niall says after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "Each year just gets better."

"Even better than the Valentine's Day you asked me to marry you?"

"That one is pretty hard to beat," he admits.

"Well . . . I have something to tell you. Something that might make this Valentine's Day beat our engagement night."

"Mm, and what might that be? You bought me a new guitar?"

"No. It's something even better."

"I bet my present to you beats yours to me," he says childishly.

"Niall, we promised each other we wouldn't get each other gifts!"

"I had to, (Y/N)! Did you really think I wouldn't get my wife a Valentine's present? That's just ridiculous," Niall scoffs.

"You're so difficult."

"Isn't that why we're soul mates?"

"It's probably much more than that. But you go first for presents, then, if you have the present with you."

"I do, thankfully." He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a long, velvet box. "Don't ask how I got that in my pocket, 'cause I have no idea," he chuckles.

I stare at the box in his hands hesitantly before he encourages me. "Go on, open it." I take the box out of his hand, open it, and gasp. A beautiful diamond heart necklace lies against the deep blue velvet.

"I love it! It's so beautiful," I gush, grabbing him fiercely by the neck and hugging him.

"The bigger heart represents me, and the smaller heart represents you." He points at the two hearts. Now that he mentioned it, I notice a smaller heart held within a slightly bigger one.

"Now time for my present," he says, a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

"Um, well-- it's not really something I can actually, physically give to you -- not yet at least. But I did bake you a cake, so I guess that does count as part of the present," I babble, nervousness overcoming me.

"Really, what kind? Wait, never mind; that doesn't matter right now. What is my present?"

I decide not to beat around the bush and get right to the point: "We need to start buying baby clothes."

"Why? Theo is a toddler and doesn't fit--"

"Niall James Horan," I interrupt him, "I'm pregnant."

"Wha--" His face drains of color then turns pink. "Are you being serious?" he almost shouts.

"Yes." I bite my lip to keep from screaming.

"You're-- We're-- I'm gonna be a dad!" he exclaims, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Yeah, I know!" I squeal, finally letting go what has been bottled up for over a week.

"You're pregnant!" Niall screams, lifting me up by my waist and spinning me around, but drops me after only a few seconds. "I don't want to hurt the baby," he explains, smiling widely.

"Ni, the baby's probably this big." I show him its size with my thumb and forefinger. "You can't hurt it by spinning me around.

"Well, in that case." He picks me up off the ground and spins me around multiple times until I'm dizzy, even though I couldn't care less.

"You're going to be an amazing father," I tell him, kissing his cheek. "And I love you."

"I can't believe our baby is inside you right now. I'm so glad it's you." He kisses my nose. "And I love you too," he whispers, kissing me on the lips.

What did you think? Was it satisfactory? I feel like this was a million times better than part one; as we all know, a lot can change in a year, and my writing skills have certainly improved (I hope).

By the way, Happy Valentine's Day! I'll be spending the day in a classroom, dreaming about a special someone (this imagine is a big hint). And I might get some chocolate, maybe from my brothers and sister, if they're nice. This is the fourteenth Valentine's Day -- in a row -- that I've been single (if you wanted to know my age, there's your answer).